Falling Leaves
by lily moonlight
Summary: Something has happened amongst the wind and rain. Who can you trust when all else has failed? Mac/Stella, hints of DL and F/A. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** First chapter of a new story. I haven't forgotten Thorns, consider this an interlude. I started this when Cornwall was being battered by gales recently, it came into my head which meant I had to write it. Shamelessly romantic with some sadness along the way. Please let me know what you think, all reviews are much valued. The first line is taken from 'Possession' by Sarah McLachlan.**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 1

Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide…

It screams and rattles through the trees like death and dry bones. Against an indigo sky, sour with rain, the branches are skeletons. Snatches of voices sound through the hissing downpour and words are tossed about by the gusts. Close to, the air smells of brick dust and rotten wood.

Flack stands with his fists clenched in his pockets, waiting uselessly and hating it. The rain drips and slides through his hair. He wipes his face only for more water to cling to it.

Hawkes, treading a careful pattern through the swelling puddles, joins him in restlessness, "Any word yet?" He hopes for a different one, but knows the answer he will get. He has the weight of what has happened in his voice and brown eyes, darkened to ebony.

Flack avoids those eyes, looks away over the other man's shoulder instead towards the chaos, "Nothing. Still searching."

Hawkes nods slowly and hunches his shoulders. They fall silent. The razor-thin wind cuts cold through skin. Shivers through their bones. Raindrops hit hard on numb faces.

Mac stands next to Stella a little way off, catching a few words of the conversation. His face carries the burden of concern which is always his, some days heavier than others. Stella watches the scene ahead of them, and shares some of what he shoulders. Because it belongs to her as well.

He feels the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder, her skin is still warm, "It'll be okay, Mac. They're doing everything they can."

He glances at her, the woman at his side, and is reminded of how much that means to him, "I hope so." For her sake.

Beneath their feet the rain has swarmed across the ground, leaving veins of water that pulse and ripple. The earth lives and breathes.

Danny, his hair pressed back against his scalp, boots splashing in the coffee-coloured water, passes them with Lindsay at his side. Her hair is lifting and swirling round her head. She holds it down with one hand and shields her eyes from the grit that has been swept around them with the other. He is angry, she is anxious.

He spits his words out, "Why the hell did they not call us sooner? We could have been here an hour ago, doing something, not screwing around waiting for no fucking news. We could've been helping sooner. Dammit Lindsay."

He sends a stone hurtling across the waste, and another, "Shit. We should be doin' _something_."

She feels the frustration as much as he does, but holds hers within, and tries to ease his, "Danny, there isn't much we can do yet. We're here, that's gonna have to be good enough for now."

His hands fall to his side. She moves closer to him and he breathes the scent of her gratefully, "I know that. I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it though." They walk towards the others, stronger against the storm.

Mac looks across at the scene in the near distance. Wreckage, dust, confusion. It feels unreal, a dream blown across his eyes. But Stella's eyes tell him differently.

"I hope they're not too late." She says, and begins to feel the cold. For his sake.

**A short beginning, I know. More planned. But I'd really like to know what you think. Please review, thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you very much for all the reviews for the first chapter, I'm glad it was enjoyed. Here's the second instalment, please let me know what you think.**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 2

Earlier:

In scarlet silk, dawn rises above their city, whilst clouds fleet above. Rags and tatters. Tossed in the wind. The ships in the harbour are swaying helplessly as the wind gains strength; diving under the bridges, whooping across the river and dragging the rain along the streets. Not a good day to be out. Heed the weather warnings, don't go. Not unless you have to.

In a breathless rush, Flack gains the safety of the precinct, and slams the door against an outraged gust. Feels the calm recycled air of the building on his stinging face. He stands gasping for breath and shakes the rain from his coat, until an apologetic officer approaches.

His stomach sinks, "You better not be about to tell me I have to walk back out through that door."

The woman shrugs, embarrassed at least, "Sorry, Detective, gotta three car pile up on Broadway, pedestrian down too. No one else available."

Hot coffee and a bagel shrivel up and die in his mind. Damn. Could she not have waited five minutes? Let the steam rise from his coat at least? No. She's already leading the way out.

"All right, let's go. I'll drive." Flack wishes curses on careless drivers and dreams of April sunshine, before heading out into March's tempest.

...

Stella fights her way to the building this morning. The wind is dragging its fingers through her hair and striving to pull her into its _danse macabre_. But she defies it, so instead it tries to snatch a pretty trifle from her; the rose-pink scarf around her neck. Too late. She reaches the refuge of the lab, leaving screams of rage behind her.

Once within, she can look without: she sees taxis streaming with water cascade along the tarmac; umbrellas flying upwards to form outlandish flocks of birds with nylon wings and metal spines; people staggering helplessly past. People are fragile things.

Rain-silvered windows. Shimmering glass. Stella sits for a moment in her office and shivers the cold touch of the wind from her curls.

Mac enters and picks up his pen from her desk with a smile, "You made it then?"

"Only just. This weather is something else, Mac. I hope we don't have to go far today… Oh." She reads his expression, "Some hope. You've come to tell me we've got a call haven't you?"

"Sorry, Stella." And he means it. He would rather all his team stayed inside. For their sake. "Danny's out with Flack, and Lindsay and Hawkes are otherwise engaged. A minor hurricane doesn't stop death, or dead bodies."

"Nor does it stop CSIs." Her smile is generous and Mac shares it, "You're lucky I hadn't even taken my coat off. I had a feeling we wouldn't escape lightly today."

"Always the way." He holds the door and lets her pass in front of him. She wraps her scarf more tightly round her neck.

"Where are we headed?"

"The Bronx, looks like a stabbing. Angell's waiting for us."

She nods. Another day.

Lindsay, walking past with Hawkes as they concentrate on an open file together, stops when she sees how they are dressed, "Please don't tell me you have to go out to a scene in this?" She feels guilty at her tingle of relief, that it is them and not her.

"'Fraid so." Stella shrugs, and at that moment, Lindsay's pager bleeps.

"Would you believe it?" Her face is wry, the irony is not appreciated, but the guilt disappears. "Hawkes, this is going to have to wait."

Stella smiles, "Sorry kiddo, take it easy though, both of you. Don't get blown away - I _don't_ want to have to write up your case notes." They both laugh at her words, but take all that she means to heart.

Hawkes resists a rejoinder of the same words, but the thought is there. He says simply, "See you later."

They go their different paths, out into the havoc.

**More soon! Reviews welcome : D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes ****Thank you very much for all the lovely reviews for the first and second chapters, I'm glad it was enjoyed. 'Thorns' is now complete (but feel free to review that one if you've read it and haven't yet!) so I'll now concentrate on this story. Here's the third instalment, please let me know what you think, hope you like it.**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 3

Present:

Flack is a man of clay, his vital commands missing. The sticking, clinging earth creeps over his feet, crawls up his legs and solidifies him where he stands. Rain, endless rain, erodes his features and turns those that have gathered around him into a deliquescence of dust. Silently they stand, stopped and staring. And the rain comes down, not in drops, but scarving across the earth, sending shockwaves across its skin.

Four of them stand together. Danny has been led by Lindsay's guiding touch to Flack and Hawkes, and they are unified in their powerless state, all of them. Mud rises, spirits fall.

Only Hawkes can find his voice, and he speaks tasting acrid water, "Does anybody know _anything_ more about what happened?" The question only fills dead time, there is no other need to ask it.

Danny shakes his head, as much to rid himself of rainwater as to deny bitterly, "We know all we know, the uniforms at the scene were far enough away to escape the worst of it. All I heard was that they heard the noise, but were too far off to do anything by then, except make the calls. It happened so fast. Why they called _us_ last…" He spits out the rain that has leached into his mouth.

Lindsay makes her pressure felt on his upper arm, reminds him again, "They called us. We're here _now_."

His head droops, and allows water to sneak down his neck.

Flack stares morosely at his hands, melting in the deluge. He does not lift his eyes to speak, "Soon as they've cleared some of it, made it safe, we can search. I hate to say it, but they've got the right people over there, we don't want to cause any more to slip or make it worse…"

A look of surprise ricochets between Danny and Hawkes, this is not what they expected to hear. Hawkes's shoulders sink lower, weighted further by Flack's futility, taking it as his own. Silence saturates them once more and the only sound is the sibilance of rushing wind through Lindsay's hair.

Until another voice hails them, then two voices. They rouse themselves and look across the wasteland to see Sid and Adam striding towards their huddle. No one has the impetus to greet the two men and their steps slow as they approach. Adam is cocooned in layers of coat, scarf and sweaters, and still shivers violently. Sid, his hat pulled down to the tops of his glasses, holds an offering in his gloved hands.

"I brought you coffee, should be enough for all, well, a mouthful at least."

Lindsay accepts the thermos from him, with a smile of thanks, that does not reach her eyes. Water wriggles down its surface, so she holds it against her coat, wrapping her scarf around the top to unscrew it.

"Thanks, Sid, you're good to us."

"It's the least I could do, I couldn't get away till now."

Danny looks oddly at him, "Should you be here? Not that I'm not grateful, I just meant, didn't you have autopsies, I mean, shit…" He swivels around, embarrassed and his cheeks burn hotter than any other part of him. "You know what I mean."

Sid answers him quietly, "The dead can wait for the time being. I think the living are more important right now." He passes on the cup Lindsay gives him to Flack who swallows it in one gasp.

No one can say the thought that all of them see spectrally. They know whose lives are missing, and becoming more uncertain with each corrosive drop that falls.

Mac, who has not seen Sid's arrival, walks across the lacerated ground. Stella follows a few steps behind him. They are nearer now to the damage that has been done. He stops and crouches down beside a scattering of bricks, spread by misrule. The air skirls round him, raising the dankness of mud and dark water, which become in his mind a breath of the unliving world below. He cannot let that happen. But what he cannot accept is brought gradually to possibility through the shouts of those who throng the ruptured earth and structural ruins. They have still found no life beneath, and his eyes are darker than the anvil clouds above them.

Stella, looking up into the clouds and bruised sky, speaks to him, but her words are snatched away.

Mac sees only her mouth moving, and calls to her, "I can't hear you. Were you speaking to me?"

"Who else?" The melancholy in her voice as she turns to him is a wound to his conscience.

"I'm sorry, Stella."

Her conscience hurts, "Don't. It's not your fault. Look, why don't we move a little closer? It can't do any harm."

"I don't think we should, we don't want to hinder their efforts." His feet are unwilling to move, commanded by his head, stubbornly against what his heart urges him to do.

She looks at him, with the slightest smile lifting the corners of her mouth, "Somehow, I don't think we will."

He acquiesces to her resolve and they move in slow time. Around them the slipstreams of the storm sing _bel canto_ in counterpoint to the plainsong downpour. Grey veils of sound lose them from sight.

Still unnoticed amongst the precarious remains, a rag and a tatter of material lies limp with rainwater. Long lost from fingers too cold and still to keep it safe. Shrieking in gusts of delight, the wind snatches it up and up and out of reach beyond the trees. A rose-pink memento seized with triumph, at last. But the earth has taken far greater treasures, and it holds them still.

**More soon! Reviews always welcome, they help me write : D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you very much for all the reviews for the previous chapters, it's not too late to review them either if you haven't ; ) I think I'm becoming addicted to reviews… Here's the fourth instalment, please let me know what you think, I love to hear from everyone.**

**Just to clarify, this is another flashback, time picks up after chapter 2**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 4

Earlier:

Mac's face is set in concentration as Stella drives. The car, its windscreen liquescent, surges through rivers of road, and his hand tightens its grip.

Stella interprets the gesture with a piercing glance, "I'm driving as carefully as I can."

"I know. But I wish you'd keep your eyes on the road."

She shakes her head, and her lips quirk in amusement, "How many years have I been driving? And I sure as hell didn't have _you_ down as a nervous passenger." The road wavers and blurs ahead as she leans forward in concentration, "I could be offended, Mac."

"But you're not." He slides a look across to her, "I've no doubt in your abilities, Stella. The weather on the other hand, I don't trust."

"Stop talking then, you'll distract me."

They fall into a companionable silence. The residential streets pass, dwindle and concede to vacant lots and finally waste ground blotched with trees.

"Almost there." Stella says, glancing back in the rear view mirror.

Mac nods, "Next turn on your…"

There is a grinding, breathless groaning and in toppling slow motion something rushes down towards them.

"Stella, look out!"

Brakes scream and swerve and everything comes to a full stop.

………………………………...

Danny strides towards Lindsay and grasps her hands, warming them at a touch.

He wipes a whipcord of hair from her cheek with a grin, "Nice hair style, suits you. Wind blow you here?"

"I see it didn't blow any better looks or manners your way, Messer." She ripostes, "And you and Flack better have a good reason for calling me out on a day like this."

"Oh you're gonna love this." Flack's long legs reach them. His brows are lowered and there is a slick sheen of water over his skin. He waves expansively towards three cars scrunched into a mound of glistening metal, "Seems that the trunk in one of these cars was used for more than just carrying grocery bags."

"A body?" Lindsay's attention is captured immediately, and she hurries alongside Flack. Danny is close behind, hands in his pockets, his rolling walk easily keeping pace.

"Not entirely." Flack pops open the trunk of a folded-in dark blue sedan, and reveals its contents.

"Oh." Lindsay closes her mouth and swallows hard, "I see. I'm guessing whoever this _was _has been riding around in here for some time."

"Uh huh." Danny slaps his hands at his side trying to warm himself, "Oh yeah. A _long_ time. But I'll tell ya now, Montana, we're not gonna be here a long time if I can help it, for one thing, I've no desire to be telling Mac that our evidence was washed down the drains."

Flack huffs into his collar, and darts back from a cascade of brackish water splattering onto the sidewalk, "Well I ain't telling him _you_ guys were either. So as ever, I'm on hand with my insightful and helpful comments, don't be shy to ask."

"Thanks, Flack, we're good." Lindsay grins slyly at him, "Coffee on the other hand…."

"Don't push me." He hunkers down at the side of the car, finding no shelter from the lashing water. The CSIs begin their painstaking task, whilst the city swirls and gurgles and slowly begins to drown around them.

………………………………...

"Are we both still alive?" Stella, the tremor in her voice impossible to suppress, asks her partner. Her fingers have locked around the steering wheel and she cannot wrench her eyes from the tree that has fallen across the road, less than half a meter away from where the car has shuddered to a halt.

Mac blinks, sucks in a breath and turns to her, "As far as I can see. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little shaken, and relieved." Her heart thumps blood back into her body, "That was far closer than I'd have liked. Thank god for ABS, huh?" She laughs weakly and is finally able to look at him, "You okay?"

"Yes, but my usual calm exterior may have suffered somewhat." His face is wry, but colour is returning to both their faces.

Neither of them say anything more for a moment, until Stella pulls her hands away from the wheel decisively and moves to get out of the car, pulling her coat and scarf tightly around her.

"I think we'd better take a look, we may not be able to go any further down the road. Which is a major pain in the ass, but…"

Mac joins her. She stands with her hands on her hips, and the rain beats down on both of them.

"I'm gonna have to agree with you on this one, Stella. "

"Don't you always agree with me?"

"When you're right…"

"Which is always."

He smiles, admitting defeat, "So what's the plan? As you're always right."

The fallen tree, a mighty-trunked laurel oak, is beginning to dam the roaring current along the road and Stella tests the depth warily.

"For a start, we need to make some calls, there's no way _we_ can move this, and there's no way we can drive any further along. Hate to say it Mac, but we're gonna have to get everything we can out of the car and walk the rest of the way. Least it's not far."

A grim look shifts into place, this is not something he wanted to happen, "Far enough, but I guess there's not much else we can do. Okay, you make the calls, I'll get the kits out."

They set to their tasks and are soon almost submerged under the weight of falling water, each drop beating into clothes, hair and temper. Stella snaps her phone shut, and Mac crashes down the trunk of the car. They set off in an overcast silence.

A longer walk than either of them had judged for, leads them to a patch of waste ground, its face already vivified with rills of rainwater. Detective Angell waits for them under the roof of a near-derelict outhouse crouching by an embankment.

"Glad you could make it." She calls out, relieved to see them. And is even more relieved when she is told of the near-miss they have suffered.

Culpability sinks her heart, "I'm sorry to make you come out here on a day like this…"

"It's what we do." Is Stella's rejoinder, guessing her feelings, "What have you got for us?"

Angell guides them inside to a mound of tarpaulin, "Under here. A couple of teenagers found him. They'd stopped in here for shelter, were about to make themselves comfortable, and got a nasty surprise. See for yourselves."

She throws back the cover and unshrouds a man surprised by death. A rusty handled knife protrudes from his neck. Lividity traces mosaics across his skin.

"Cause of death seems fairly obvious."

Angell raises her eyebrows, and Mac responds by pulling away more of the tarpaulin, to reveal the rest of the body.

"Seems, Angell. You're probably right, but I'd like to do a little more looking first. Tell us what else you know though." He looks up at her, his face not judgemental, and she grins.

"I never go by first impressions either, Mac. Can't tell you much more than I have already; no ID, no wallet, just as he is. The two kids who found him are not too coherent at the moment, but I'm going to take them back down to the precinct in a few minutes, that is if you two don't object? I've got two officers stationed on the perimeter."

"Fine by us. Spare us a thought when you're back in the warmth of the precinct won't you though? And take care on the roads." Stella smiles at her, even as she shivers at a trail of water slithering down her back.

"Of course, and I really am sorry for bringing you out here." Angell lifts her shoulders helplessly, and has the truth of what she says clear in her eyes.

"All part of the job. You had to come out yourself don't forget." Mac lifts some of the guilt, and she nods gratefully.

"Call me when you're done here, and hopefully I can share some more information with you."

"Of course." Stella is already sweeping water off her coat and lifting out what she needs from her kit.

Lingering for a moment, Angell assures herself they can manage without her, and walks out into the curtains of water. She is soon lost from their sight.

**Thoughts? All welcome. I've never written Angell before, and I don't know if she's in character, so please let me know either way. Thank you! Lily x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you so much for all the reviews for the previous chapters, I've loved reading them, feel free to add more :D Here's the fifth instalment, a little shorter, but please let me know what you think, I love to hear from everyone.**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 5

Present:

Nothing speaks except the tumbling skies. The weather grows crueller as the day fails. Water besieges the land, flinging merciless swords and lances into it and those who wait on it. Wind batters their bodies, shakes the suspension that traps them, inundates their ears with its symphonies. But someone dares to challenge the storm in a small, still voice.

"Uh, guys, I think that… I mean, don't you think that.." He takes a deep breath, "I think we should go and help."

"We can't." Flack's voice holds the heaviness of the waterlogged world around them, "Don't think I don't want to, Adam, but if there was any chance left they were…"

Something inside Danny sparks and his head shoots up, "What? You wanna repeat that?" His hands clench, fingers slipping, white-ice skin.

Flack drags his eyes from the ground, "If they haven't found them by now, what chance have we got? That's all I'm sayin'."

Everything he does not say drowns their hearts. Sid's hand drops to his side like a broken wing. Lindsay loses her grip, and the thermos lies in the mud, its contents streaming and mingling with the mud. No one picks it up.

"Don't say that, Flack!" She cries, and the wind keens in mockery, "Don't say that!" Rain floods her eyes and she catches hold of his arm, dragging on a dead weight, "They wouldn't give up on _us_, ever. We can't give up. Adam's right, come on, please, we have to go and help, we can't stand here any longer doing nothing. Please!"

But she has lost him. His eyes are caverns of the night sky as he says, "It's been too long."

She releases him, his arm thuds against his side.

"Well screw you, Don Flack! Screw you and what you think. I'm done waiting here, I'm going to help find them. They'll have even less chance if we stand here like scarecrows as _you_ seem to want to do!" With her shoes sliding in the choking mud, she stumbles away. Her hair, black with water, ribbons out behind her. Adam slips between the others and without a look back, is faithful to her footsteps.

Danny gives Flack a look of questioning pity before pulling his boots from the morass and following their path, his gait stiff-legged. Hawkes is already ahead of him. Puddles bloat and break as they wade through.

"I'm sorry, Flack. I don't think you mean what you say, but I can't accept that either." Sid's words are blown away into the convulsing bone branches above as he moves to catch the others. Flack does not hear his words. He hears only the blood ringing in his ears and knows that if he moves he will shatter, and the pieces of his heart will be cast to the wind and the rain.

………………………………...

Stella sees their shapes through the blurred air, and touches Mac lightly on the arm, "I told you they'd help. They wouldn't let us down." Her eyes are searching when he does not answer her, "Mac?"

"I don't know if they can do any good, how long has it been now?"

She pulls a face at him, "I've no idea, I wasn't exactly looking at my watch when it happened, were you?"

"I'd not long looked. I'm estimating it's been nearly three hours, it's a long time, Stella…"

He is struggling with the implications. The sky is gloaming above them, the earth tenebrous around and below; thick, stifling twilight. It coils up around him, and tries to silence him.

Stella speaks for him, "Not too long though, I won't accept that, and neither should you. Would we still be here otherwise? I still don't know what the hell's going on, but I'm willing to make a pretty good guess from everything, and if that's the case, then the fact that we're both here talking to each other is a good thing. Tell me you agree with me on this, Mac, please. Remember what you said to me earlier?"

"I said a lot of things, earlier." His intractable answer hides some of what he fears, but Stella is too good at delving behind his words.

"You agreed with me earlier, you said I was always right. So hear me out, and you can tell me I'm right again. It's not too late, Mac. We've got them all searching, and we're right here and waiting. Got that?" Eyes the green of leaves torn from the shaking trees dare him to disappoint her.

He looks into her eyes and sees only his reflected. Eyes that were stars, stars, and now dead coals under the grasping earth. She waits for his answer and he cannot give it. Darkness falls into his heart.

**Please review, any thoughts and guesses welcome. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you very much for all the reviews for the previous chapters, it's not too late to review them either if you haven't ; ) They fuel my words… Here's the sixth instalment, please let me know what you think, I love to hear from everyone.**

**Flashback, time picks up after chapter 4**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 6

Earlier:

An oozy trickle of mud idles down the embankment, out of sight and out of sound, sucking in the rain as it goes, rousing the earth.

…………………..

Viciously, the wind blows through the exposed ribs of the building, shaking its structure and prising the tiles from its roof, sending them clanging to the ground. Whilst inside, the dust and grit squirm on the floor, lifting the smells of mould and spilled blood.

"There's not enough blood here." Mac decides, as he captures still images of the life stilled before him, "This isn't the primary scene, someone dumped him here, out of sight."

"Figuring it was unlikely anyone would be coming in anytime soon, going by the state of the place."

"And they probably wouldn't have had cause to, until today, he could have lain here for months undisturbed. The weather's proved to be good for something at least."

"Keep telling yourself that, Mac, maybe it'll prove to be true." Stella shudders as the water that seems to have permeated every thread of her clothes plunges its talons into her skin.

"Cold?" He asks her without ceasing to record the detritus around the body, "I'd offer you my coat, but I'm afraid it wouldn't do you much good."

"Cold _and_ wet, same as you, thanks all the same. I'd also offer you _my_ coat of course, but I know you wouldn't accept." Despite her teeth beginning to knock against each other, she smiles.

"I would never take your coat, Stella." He crouches over the body again with the camera, and the flash bursts white light into the murk, "I'm too much of a gentleman."

"Never doubted it." Glancing at her fingers, she sees them freezing to blue and ivory. Her scarf is sodden and clings to her neck like a clemmed arm so she pulls it off and drapes it carefully out of the way, before she continues to trace the remains of a life stopped short.

………………………………...

The stream of mud, drawing in strength and vitality from grit and pebbles, slides further and the earth begins to stir. Still surreptitious, still stealthy it slips down.

………………………………...

"There's a blood trail over here, Mac."

He joins her, stirring up draughts of mouldering straw as he walks, "So I see, well spotted. Which leads me to guess our vic was not long dead when he was brought here, or else his killer was still covered in blood when he brought him here. Either way, does it take us anywhere?"

"Over here." Stella beckons him to where she has followed it. Mildewed ropes swing from the rafters as the wind pummels the building, breaking through the gaps and spinning round. The air is old over by the back wall which seeps with slime; tainted with decay and dead wood. They agitate dust with their footsteps. Wraiths fall in the dust as they move.

…………………………

Pebbles skid, bounce, fall. The stream, viscous now, thick and slow but steady, clutches at rocks and tree roots as it glissades along its course. Down and down.

………………………………...

"Take a sample, we'll compare it to the vic's, though I'd say it's likely to be a match." Mac decides.

"I guess it's too much to hope the killer cut him or herself as they did the deed?"

"You never know, Stella, today could be a lucky day." This lends a rare light to his face, and she enjoys the difference it makes to him.

"I like your optimism, Mac, misplaced as it may be."

"Sometimes even _I'm_ right." He hands her the camera with a smirk, and crouches for a scientist's view of the rusty crown-like drops. The roughcast floor they have fallen on gives them a muted sheen. Mac reaches out to touch them.

………………………………...

Slow, quicker, fast, hurtling; the demolishing torrents of mud and debris, the slabs of quickened clay, rush onwards, downwards. The earth heaves up, seethes and boils over. Its bubbles burst and it loses its shape, falling, falling.

………………………………...

In paroxysms of fury, the wind batterfangs the building and lets fly rain through its weakened skin. The structure trembles and stands no chance against what is crashing down towards it; it offers no chance to those inside it.

Mac's fingers sense the vibrations in the floor, and instinct only brings him to his feet, moves him across the chasm of distance and time to Stella, tears one word only from his throat.

"Run!"

Unquestioning, she hesitates only to know that he will follow her. His hands are round her arms, pushing her forwards, out of harm's way; she pulls him forward in return. But they stand no chance. The earth falls on them in a roiling, churning mass of stones, mud, glutinous water, snapping wood, bricks and dust. No time, no chance. They fall below the earth as it chokes and consumes. Eyes smothered, mouths filled with the stuff of tombs. Everything stops.

**Anyone guessed? A shorter chapter, but more soon. Soon as I can finish various assignments, sigh. Please review and cheer me up! Let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you so much for all the reviews for the previous chapters, I've loved reading them, feel free to add more :D Here's the seventh instalment, hope you enjoy. N.B. A small amount of swearing.**

**Two or three more chapters to go after this one, depending on where the path of the story takes me. And sorry for any stress and / or anxiety caused at the end of the last chapter…**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 7

Present:

Everything stops. The rain morphs into an unbroken pane of water and the wind sucks in its breath. A moment. Those searching, excavating, hoping, pause and stand; shabtis stilled under a spell. Then a holler travels round their company; they have found and pulled something up from the ruins.

The sound buffets across to Flack, but he has sunk almost too far, it has been too long. He can see only a burial ground ahead of him, through the disfiguring rain, that keeps close two people he would have given his own life for. Somewhere inside he feels the ache, the killing ache of loss he will have to face.

When did he last see them? He finds he cannot remember, suddenly, horribly. Only that it was not today, they were at opposite ends of the city, and of fate.

He cannot remember and begins to frantically trawl back through his nets of memories. Yesterday, two days ago, three days ago? Yesterday. He remembers now; he saw them yesterday, in the park, in sunshine. Death in the Spring, an open case, which now they will not be the ones to close. And that was how he saw them last, as they walked away together through the grass, sunlight sheened. Nothing unusual, no warning that he would not see them again. Gone.

Flack has the ground below his eyes, nothing else. Water drains from him, absorbs him, slakes the earth. But something stirs in his calcifying body, a whisper of the storm that sings of just a chance. He raises his eyes. Could there be a chance? The memory of the chance he was given relumes his heart, and stone begins to crumble. He raises his eyes higher, and faces the chance that could slip in a single drop of water through his fingers. But he will not let it. He grasps the rain and pulls himself out of the mud. To offer them a chance.

Flack reaches his friends, and reaches out to them, awakens them with a touch. Lindsay squeezes his hand, draws him closer and they need no words. Danny claps a hand on his back. They all armour in front of the devastation, horror, gouged earth and the smashed body of a building.

Branches above scored deep into the purple sky. Wire thin, curled and trembling like broken strings of violins, snapped in anger. Chords vibrate in the wind, demons' chords, humming a dance of death in the shadowing skies.

But there is strength in all of them. They press closer, pushing past the barrier that tries to come down to them; a fire fighter who attempts a reason, but knows she cannot hold them back when Flack's eyes challenge her. She falls back, and they push on. They need to know.

They are almost buried themselves, adhering to the mud, becoming part of it as they wade through. They struggle over, sinking, to the clutch of fire fighters gathered around something who was someone. Amongst a tangle of muddied arms and legs, a body lies on the ground.

"No! Oh no!" Lindsay rushes forward, shoves them aside and then almost falls. Danny is at her side, arms around her. But it is not who they wanted and did not want to see. A uniformed officer, ashen-faced under the rain chokes out the identity of the man before them, John Doe. Already dead, long dead. The reason they were in there. Risking lost lives for a life lost.

They draw on hope that is almost running dry in the cataracts of rain thundering now around them. It drives them on. Officials let them pass, giving away that they now feel it is hopeless. It can do no harm now for them to search.

Danny ignores it, hurls his voice above the crescendos, "Come on, all of you, get over here! Montana, get searching with me. Flack, you and the doc get over there. Sid, you and Adam take the edge. This weather is not going to kick our butts, we're gonna find them, come hell or whatever, you got that all of you? Move it!"

He begins to dig with bare hands, ignoring the tearing of his skin, and fingernails ripping. Bricks are heaved aside, each obstacle torn away with the fuel of near-desperation, and anger,

"Goddammit, both of you! Why today? What the hell where you thinking coming out here? Where are you? Just tell me that, and we'll find you. And then I'll fucking kill you for putting us through this. You hear that, Mac? Stella? Don't you freakin' _dare_ do this to us…"

There is no more he can say, a choked groan rips out of him. Lindsay shudders with the sobs that have at last seized her, but she is there beside him, plunging her hands in amongst the debris. All of them. Almost swept away. But getting closer, to life or death.

………………………………...

Mac sees them all now, clearly, and hears everything that Danny shouts. There is nothing he can do though, and that pulls any light left from his eyes. He stands only a few feet away, but the divide is immeasurable.

"Dammit, Mac! We gotta do something here." Stella strides over to him, hardly touching the ground with her force. "Anything instead of this waiting around. Waiting to be rescued is _not_ my style."

His back is turned to her, "What do you suggest then? I'd say our options were limited at best right about now."

Folding her arms and pressing her lips together, she retorts, "I never had you down as a pessimist either. Come on, Mac, treat this as you usually would a problem. Find the solution. We figure it out, it's what we do."

"The problem is, Stella, the only solutions I can think of are ones you're not gonna like."

"Try me." She is inexorable, "I like solutions."

Mac sighs and wishes he could offer her more than he is about to. Life seems a soliloquy almost spoken and he is about to give her his last few words.

"I don't know if… if we're gonna make this one. That's the problem. If we're still under there, under all that fell on us, then the weight alone could have killed us, Stella… and that's without mentioning that the last thing I remember right afterwards is not being able to breathe. So no, this time I'm not optimistic." He holds his hands up to her, her gaze is unwavering, "I'm sorry."

"Not good enough, try another solution, and then I'll try one as well. I don't have time for sorry, so leave it out, Mac."

A glimmer returns to him, her vivacity is undimmed, "I wish I had your optimism Stella, and your spirit…"

"I have issues with that word at this point." She flicks her head to the side, "Nothing personal. This is just not how I expected the day to turn out, standing here, having a conversation with you at the same time as I'm probably lying beneath a ton or so of earth and rubble…" She runs her hands through her hair, and the twilight falls across her eyes, "It's not how I expected it to end."

"It hasn't ended yet, Stella." Mac finds a last glister of hope, and is in front of her in a step, taking her hands into his.

Stella opens her mouth to reply, but is stopped by a yell from the other side. They turn to stare.

………………………………...

Lindsay has dropped to her knees in the mud, Danny, is almost horizontal beside her, scraping frantically, "I've got something, I think I've found them, they're here! Oh God, Linds, please, help me here, Lindsay!"

Her own hands shredded and bleeding, sobs racking her, she helps him wrench away a snapped rib of wood. It suppurates out of the mud and reveals at last a chance of hope. Others stream towards them, grazing the skin of the ground, and they stand silent as Danny scratches away a last handful of sticking clay. Lying beneath, glistening in the rain that now falls on it, is a hand, and an arm. Corpse-candle white against a black sleeve and as still as the silence that now falls. He grasps it, not letting its snow coldness slip through his fingers, and shouts with all the air left in his lungs, "We've found them!"

**Sorry this chapter was a little later than I had intended. Still lots of assignments, but this is much more fun! And it's the weekend : ) Shabtis, if you're wondering, are Ancient Egyptian tomb statues. Please review and tell me what you think, this is a bit of an unusual story, and I'd love to know what you think of the twist. Lily x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you so much for all the reviews for the previous chapters, I've loved reading them, feel free to add more :D Here's the eighth instalment, hope you enjoy. One or two more chapters to go after this, still working out the conclusion. **

**This is the final flashback, continuing from Chapter 6**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 8

Earlier:

The earth gives a final moan and shudders to a stop. The rain falls without ever having stopped, pocking the already mutilated ground. A sculpture of turmoil, risen amongst the debris which bedizens the waste, stands where only moments ago stood the order of human construction. The embankment is gone, the building is gone, all uncreated. And below lie two lives, hidden from sight and sound.

Over the sounds of the whistling water, breaking over the derangement of mud, water, broken land and masonry, come the horrified shouts of the two officers who had been too far to help but close enough to know they could not. They halt in disbelief at the sight, frozen in the sussurating streams and laughing gusts. Unmanned with shock, they lose the bones in their bodies, and sink almost into the earth themselves, grabbing hold of wasted handfuls of wreckage, until they realise. They can do only what they can. Radios spit and fizz into life, the message is relayed, news is spread and everything starts.

………………………………..

At the other end of the city, Flack remains at the side of the car, drinking in the rain. Whilst above him, Danny and Lindsay tooth comb the interior of the car which has hidden a secret rotting away in its trunk for a period they are trying to establish. Under the pressure of time, little remains; liquidised flesh, yellowing bones and tissue-fine skin caught on fibres. As they work, around them, people wash past in a storm-drain stream of humanity; some stop, some dive glances at them as they flow by.

"You got the driver of this car, Flack? I'm guessing at some point you _are _gonna get up off of your ass and assist us in the investigation? Only, I can't help but notice that me and Linds are busting _our_ asses, and you're sitting on yours." Danny shoves a look at Flack, rain dripping in front of his glasses, smearing his view and sharpening his temper.

With stateliness, Flack raises himself from his position, and rests an authoritative hand on the top of the roof, "Thinking time, Messer, thinking. Somethin' you could do with doing. What you've just observed are my thought processes. And yeah, for your information, we do have the driver. Safely headed towards Sid's care s'matter of fact, which pisses me off. Son of a bitch would have been a pleasure to take in for interrogation."

"Justice?" Lindsay wonders.

Flack shrugs, "Maybe, maybe not. We'll never get the chance to find out. However, we do have a chance to discover if I've jumped the gun and picked the wrong perp, find it hard to imagine though that you could drive around the city without having some knowledge of a little extra weight in the trunk. Soon as you guys are done here, and the mortal remains of our vic are taken care of, we got an ID and address to check out."

"You got it. Just reassure me that you're not going to do a witch of the west on me in the downpour?" Danny ducks out of sight, and avoids Lindsay's smack to his arm with a supple twist.

"Whatever, _Dorothy_." Flack removes his dignity to make a call under the bouncing canvas of a hotel awning. They work on, trying to ignore the snakes of rain water slithering inside their clothes and coiling round their ankles.

Flack ends his conversation, closes his phone, wipes it off on the inside of his sodden coat and shakes his head. Drops recoil round him. Then the cell vibrates in his hand, at the same time as his radio speaks. Another call, another day. He answers, and with only a few words from the unseen voice the day collapses around his head. A few more words, and the phone is in his hands; the screen blinks out and he stares numbly at it. His breath has turned to water in his lungs, his blood coagulates.

Danny looks over to Flack, then looks again, and feels his heart creep. Something wrong. He leaps through the puddles, "Flack! Talk to me, man. What's happened?"

Rain falls, cars glide past. Flack opens his mouth, chokes back bile, "There's been an accident." The day stops.

………………………………...

Moments, steps of eternity, time waltzing across the gaps. Everything falling, crashing around them, rock forcing down their bodies onto rock. The earth swathes them in a crushing, yearning embrace with arms of dead clay. It holds their life still, stopped, suspended.

Darkness. Breathe, just breathe, _can't breathe_. The air has become thick and dark, clagging in lungs. Nothing. And then something. Mists of ink and soot eddying and consciousness returning. Mac feels his lungs about to explode and then he is released. He is aware again, and he slowly opens his eyes into not darkness. Becomes aware of a still form underneath him, beginning to stir.

"Stella…" He hears a groan and breathes again, squeezes an arm gently, "Stella, are you all right?"

"I will be if you get off of me, Mac." A muffled voice answers him, and he rolls over and gets to his feet before offering a hand to his partner.

"Sorry. I didn't hurt you?" He pulls her up, and sees amusement in her eyes.

"No, you didn't. But I'd like to know what you were thinking, throwing yourself heroically on top of me, least, I assume that's what you were doing?"

Mac smiles sheepishly, "It was the action of a moment, Stella, I was trying to push you out of the way, of…" A blank wipes his memory, "Something… of whatever happened. Something happened… Last thing I remember, I was looking at the blood trail, and felt something through the floor, vibrations. I shouted, and then… nothing. Until a moment ago."

Her eyes are narrowed, head angled, "You don't _remember_? I…" Confusion re-arranges her features, "I… I don't either, other than what you say. My memory stops right there, Mac. I was looking at the floor, you gave me the camera, then you were coming towards me, I grabbed you and… and that's it. What the hell's going on?"

They look at each other, and then they turn and see where they should be. Silence. The rain falls away from them.

Mac looks at Stella, and guesses that her thoughts are the same as his. He says quietly, "We were in there. We were in there when the embankment collapsed, on top of us."

"Then what in god's name are we doing here then? It doesn't make any sense! There must be some way we escaped, maybe we…" She raises her hands, gesturing expansively, "Maybe in the force of it all, we were, somehow, thrown to safety…"

"Stella, I don't think…"

"Oh no, no, Mac." Her hands cross in front of her, denying what she knows he is about to say, "That's not possible. There's no way in hell we are out here and still under there."

"There's no way we got out of that." Impossibilities are reversing in his mind, as he hesitantly puts his hand on her shoulder, "Stella, I'm as mystified as you are, something's gone wrong. But at the least, we know for now we're here. I suggest we go and investigate a little, find out what we can."

Her hands fall to her sides, eyes wide with unwilling defeat, "Okay, fine. Fine, let's do it." Suddenly the revenant of a smile lifts her lips, "Remember what I asked you earlier, after we nearly crashed? That might be appropriate to ask again." And then her mouth twists, and the horror of that question and its answer draws lines across her eyes that seep rain.

Mac has no words, only what he is, whatever he is. The real of her shoulder under the palm of his hand is a comforting pressure to them both as they turn from the wreckage.

People are standing near to them. Glancing now at each other, they quicken their pace, call out as they approach. No response. Nothing. They are standing in front of the two officers who were left by Angell, and they are stopped now. Eyes look at theirs and do not see them. Voices do not answer theirs. Stella reaches out her hand to grab hold, to demand to know why they do not. And something stops her. Her hand does not touch them. It stays in the air and does not touch the rain. Then more people, ones they know, ones who are always at their sides; they arrive and spill across the ground, around them. But they are out of sight and out of sound.

**Sorry for not resolving last chapter's cliff-hanger just yet. Will put chapter 9 up in the next couple of days. Hope you enjoyed this one, and that the mystery has become clearer. All reviews welcome. Lily x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you very much for all the reviews for the previous chapters, I've loved reading them, please feel free to add more! Here's the ninth instalment, which as always, I hope you enjoy. Two more chapters to go after this one.**

**Thank you to everyone who has nominated my stories and me for the CSI NY fan fic awards, I'm really honoured! Thanks to: Shining Zephyr, Marialisa, Blue Shadowdancer, ImasupernaturalCSI, iluvcsi4ever, Sally Jetson, sarramaks, chrysalis escapist and Ana Pereira**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 9

Present:

"_We've found them! Here!" _Danny bellows again, the words exploding from him, "Get over here _now_, all of you, move it, now! They're here!" He detonates the inertia. No time for more words, actions now, as the rain-fall of humanity washes round and over him. The erosion of the destruction begins.

Spirits rise and the mud falls away under fervent hands and skinned fingers. Danny is soon surrounded by hands, some gloved, some bare, some he knows, some that are strangers, but all for the same purpose. Through it all he keeps his grip on the winter-cold fingers and stops them from slipping away. A memory trickles into his mind as he digs with no other thoughts; a holiday back in a golden washed summer, a beach, the sea and a wave too far. Stinging brine in his nostrils, the blood-stopping chill of the sea, and then a hand pulling him out and into the sun's embrace. A hand that didn't let go.

His own fingers curl tighter round ones that still do not respond. But they will. If he has anything to do with it, he is damn sure about that, and he tells them, yells it to them, uncaring of who else hears.

"Remember what I said?" Only Lindsay glances at him, catching his terror and his eyes, "I meant what I said, both of you. We ain't gonna accept _anything_ other than you getting out of this alive, you got that clear? Huh, _have you_?" His fist smashes a chunk of wood, blowing it into pieces

His body is almost snapped in half as he keeps his undying hold and keeps the slipping and treacherous wreckage at bay. Little by painfully little, he and everyone around him peel away what holds the lives that mean so much to them, and reveal whose fingers he has locked in his. A dark coat, drenched now in the inundation, striated with dirt and dark water. A glimpse of short, black hair matted and streaked in mud. Danny's heart leaps, joy and fear; one of them found, but still one missing.

………………………………...

"They've found us." Mac feels the air colder.

"They've found you." Stella answers quietly.

"Then you're not far."

"Hope not." She looks away to avoid his gaze, "So what happens next, Mac? We, what, fall back into our bodies? Doesn't exactly seem like it'll be that easy." When he doesn't answer she squeezes his hand, "Share your thoughts."

"I don't know what they are right now, Stella. I don't need to tell you this isn't something I've ever experienced before, and I don't know what to think anymore, I'm sorry."

She looks at him, amusement warring with fear, "You don't know?"

"No."

"Neither do I." Determination breaks in, "But let's just keep theorizing. And I told you, sorry's no good. Okay, so normal laws of physics went out the window some time ago, but hey, we've been in weird situations before now, let's ride out the storm." She lifts her eyebrows, "You with me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Stella manages a grin back at him, "Not much of a one at the moment. Looks like you're stuck with me."

………………………………...

Lindsay's breath hitches in her chest as she continues clawing through the mess; raw, burning determination only keeping at bay the agony in her muscles and her abraded hands. She hears what Danny says and adds her own silent promise to it. Hardly noticed, creeping up around them, the day has begun to fail and it forces her on. And slowly, slowly, they untomb Mac and slowly, slowly begin to release him. All the time knowing that his is not the only life they are searching for.

Danny ignores his heart as it strikes in his chest, and the feeling that each beat knocks away at the chance they have left to find them both alive. His mind feels choked now with clay. But only a few pieces of wood and a lump of rock remain between Mac and themselves. His is the hand that flings the last away, and allows them to finally free him. Flack and Hawkes are beside him, steadying his shoulders, Lindsay at his other side, and the four of them reach down and seize hold, pull Mac from the covetous grasp of the earth. Danny almost breaks then, to see the man whose chance gave him the life he has now, almost out of chances for his own life.

"Oh, Jesus, Mac. You can't do this to us, please, man. You gotta pull through this…" The blow staggers him, the hold he has on Mac is the only thing that stops him from collapsing into the ground.

But everything happens then. Mac's body is lifted away, still and grey, life uncertain, taken to safety by Hawkes and Flack, and a fire fighter whose name is not important to anyone right now. Mac's head falls back over Flack's arm, his own arm hangs slack. Lindsay remains, holding Danny up, her hand replacing the one he held. A warm touch of life on his own cold fingers, numbed now, muscles and bone locked. Muscles in his chest are torn and wrenched but he cannot stop now, he cannot give up. Darkness is below him, a wound in the earth. On his knees again, slivers and splinters drop and vanish as he reaches down, "C'mon, Stell, I know you're here, we got Mac, just need _you_ now, you got that?"

And he grasps a tangle of hair which slips like waterweed through his fingers.

………………………………...

"I'm right sometimes, Stella."

"Only sometimes, don't get ahead of yourself, Taylor. So you really did throw yourself on top of me, huh? Nice action. You do realise if we'd been standing differently, I'd have done the same?"

"I don't doubt it."

"Only wish we'd been standing somewhere else altogether." Stella continues angrily, helplessly, as they watch their friends and colleagues, and wish that there was some way they could assist. Ceaseless rain, ceaseless wind rattling the clouds and thrumming the bass notes of the branches. Ceaseless rain.

………………………………...

"She's here!"

Danny hangs over and stares down into the gaping black. Someone hands him a flashlight, and it floods a halo of light into the empty echo. She is there. Waiting, he hopes, but still, desperately still even as he shouts her name.

"You hear me, Stell? Ain't gonna keep you waiting long, promise. Just wait for us, okay?"

He scoots backwards, suddenly aware of someone in a uniform inching their way to the ragged edge.

"Keep still, detective, you're gonna bring it all down on top of her!"

Lindsay gives a strangled cry behind him, and he drags his hands down his face in frustration, so close. Fragments spiral down into the dusk surrounding Stella. Danny is aware of Sid and Adam creeping closer towards him.

The NYFD uniformed voice continues, "Okay, take it real slow, real steady, soon as I give the word, I'm gonna drop down there and lift her out, you guys are gonna have to be ready to take her. Got it?" There is no dissent.

Shuffling forwards, millimetres per minute, they are given the signal, and hold their beating hearts as the man slides down beside Stella's body. Agonising moments until his arms are around her and raising her out of the darkness so they can possess her again. And she is safe, for now, in their arms; but they feel the cold seeping from her, bleeding into them, her skin as pale as the rain as it overwhelms them all. It is Sid who gathers her into his care and carries her weightlessly across the shifting earth, her hair like river water across his shoulder.

Danny finally gives in then, his knees crumple and he lets his hold go, everything swims around him. Only Lindsay tethers him to the earth.

………………………………...

They watch themselves and Mac's face is steeped in twilight as his thoughts lead him to the edges of the world, "Stella, if…"

She doesn't let him begin, holding up her hands, "I'm taking a wild guess at what you're gonna say, Mac. Don't start with the ifs, past _or _future, I don't wanna know. I've thought of them all. We're not watching our funerals, interesting as that would be and y'know, I've always had a wish to know what people would say about me, but now is not the time. I've decided, somehow, that we're gonna figure out how to get out of this, and _when_ we do, you know what?"

"What?" He is pulled along with her tide.

"We take ourselves out to dinner and we celebrate cheating death."

"It's a deal."

He smiles at her, even though it conceals the void inside him and he knows that her smile does the same. And then they stand hushed and watching again through the suffusions of falling water, waiting. Waiting for life to start again.

**Two more chapters to go. I really hope you're enjoying the story, please let me know, even if you're not : ) And I'll improve it. Stressful presentation today, so reviews will really cheer me up, and help me write the next chapter. Thank you! Lily x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though.**

**Notes**** Thank you very, very much for all the reviews for the previous chapters, I've LOVED reading them, they're always welcome! ****Here's the tenth instalment. As always, I hope you enjoy. It got long!**

**Thank you again very much to everyone who has nominated my stories and me for the CSI NY fan fic awards, I really am honoured. Thanks to: Shining Zephyr, Marialisa, Blue Shadowdancer, ImasupernaturalCSI, iluvcsi4ever, Sally Jetson, sarramaks, chrysalis escapist, shawdoo and Ana Pereira**

**This story, 'Watching', 'Walk Through the Shadows' and 'Thorns' have all been nominated for awards in various categories, along with myself, so if you'd like to vote for them, that would be brilliant : ) Thank you!**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 10

Present:

Sometimes the day hits hard. Sometimes it brings him to his knees. Today though has almost floored him. A man who survived death's fingers stealing round his heart, even him. Flack feels stone supplanting his flesh again and dread catching like shards of flint in his lungs, cutting his breath. The burden of the man he carries is no mass, but the weight is nearly too much to bear. A life so strong, faded in a day. His footsteps do not falter though as he walks his course whilst Hawkes plants his feet solidly beside him, the smell of mud and rain soaking rankly into their nostrils.

The doctor hurries their pace as much as he can through the slow motion seas of grass beneath their feet, "We need to get him outta here, Don, soon as we can."

"You think I don't know that?" Flack doesn't break his stride.

Hawkes tries to placate him, "No I don't…"

"Then get the goddamn paramedics over here. Where the hell are they anyhow? They give up hope?"

"They're coming, Don."

He speaks the truth as they come running, shoes squealing in the mud, two of them.

"Can't get any closer than this, ground's too wet, ambulance is sinking into it. You'll have to bring him over. You manage that?" The blur of devastation and exhaustion on both their faces has not been missed, except by themselves.

"We can manage." Flack stolidly continues, "Not much further, Mac, okay? We got you safe now." No response, he knew there would not be, but it makes his throat constrict until it hurts. Only yesterday when he saw them last. A day away, and a lifetime since. Still in motion, he asks his companion, "They found Stell yet? Can you see? They got her out?"

Hawkes dares to turn over his shoulder, and sees at last a cause for hope, "They got her, Don. Sid's got her. She's safe." He hopes.

"Thank God." Flack raises his head for a moment, lets the water cool his eyes, and then marches on. Hope at last.

………………………………...

Sid holds her carefully as he crosses the wasteland of water and disarray, trying not to jolt her. Hands tighten around her with life flowing through his veins, whilst her fingers trail through the streams of air as they pass. The water that clings to Stella becomes part of him. He sees himself not in shining armour though, it is only his arms around a friend; someone dear to him, and dearer still because of the life he owes to her.

Rain compounds his determination and he speaks to her closed eyes, touching his forehead against the ice of hers, "Stella, I think you can hear me somehow, and I want you to know this; today is not your day for leaving us. We didn't pull you out of there just to bury you again, you or Mac. Keep a hold of that, and we'll be waiting for you." He can only feel how cold she is, "Please hear me, Stella."

………………………………...

"I hear you, Sid." Stella murmurs, turning away from the other world she is watching, "I hear you." She passes a hand across her forehead and addresses Mac, "I don't want to see myself like that, or you, Mac. This is… this is _wrong_. This should _not_ be happening. What the hell is this about?"

"I don't…"

"You don't know, I know, and neither do I. But you know what? That pisses me off." She folds her hands across her chest, tilts her face skywards and lets the rain plunge around her.

"Believe it or not, Stella, I don't have an answer for everything." There is the first suggestion of anger in his tone, "Like I said, wish I did, but I don't. Much as I want to give you one."

She sighs, "I'm sorry. But tell me, please, you think we have a chance?"

"There's a chance."

A chance both ways, and they both know it. Lilting laments, the downpour lights around them. Mac looks on at the playing out of their lives, and realises suddenly the possibility of his own leaving him. The possibility that it already has. But somehow there is no fear in that anymore. Maybe today is the day, even though he was not expecting it yet. A slightest smile is all he shows. He has often tricked it, at one time welcomed it, never feared it. Always in his thoughts and bound into his being are the ones who have gone before. Forever missed, never forgotten. But his regret will be the ones he leaves behind, and the one he hopes he will not have taken with him.

Stella turns slowly towards him and sees the lines of his thoughts. She takes a step towards him, warily, "Mac…"

"Stella, please_, _listen a moment, hear me out, I have to tell you the 'ifs'. Please?" His hands hover over hers, but she snatches them away.

"_No! _No, Mac. I know what you're thinking, and no! You don't give up on me, d'you hear? I won't let you. You owe yourself the chance. Think of everything you've been through, and got through and everything that needs you, everyone." She is racing out the words now, desperate and furious, "Don't give up, _don't you dare give up_. Who else is gonna be the one who keeps the rest of us in check, hey? Who else, Mac?"

His voice is calm, "Y_ou_ do that too, Stella. Who do you think keeps me in check? I trust you with anything, everything."

"Then trust me with your life!"

"I do, I always have." Succeeding in catching her hands, he holds them in his, feels the lack of warmth. "Trust me on this as well. If this is it, then there's not a whole lot we can do about it, and…. and we have to trust that. It's gotta happen sometime, Stella, today, tomorrow, whenever, maybe it's today, for me…"

Tears are shaking her now, as she storms at him, "You leave, and I will never forgive you!"

"Yes you will." He finds the tranquil centre of the tempest, the arias of the winds "You will, and you'll keep on living, you have too much life in you to give up yet, Stella. And one day you'll be okay, and you'll keep going. Trust me."

"Not on this, Mac." Almost choking with a sob that she will not let overwhelm her, she berates him all the strength she has left, "_Hell_ no. You gotta trust _me_ this time. Neither of us are ready to go." She takes a chance, "Whoever might be waiting for either of us... whoever. But it isn't time to find that out." Her grip is ferocious, imploring him, "Your life is here, Mac. Maybe we would manage, carry on, eventually, but I'm not ready to yet, I don't want to. And you know what else? Maybe it's not your turn, maybe it's mine today, but I'm sure as hell gonna fight that possibility. we're not done yet."

Mac kindles the spark from her eyes and it strikes tinder in his soul. She is at his side. And he realises that maybe today is not the day. Maybe there is still a chance worth fighting for.

………………………………...

Flack relinquishes him finally, only when he has to, and reluctantly. Letting go of Mac has too much finality. But Hawkes is around him as the medical team are able to start finding life.

"Don, you're gonna have to sit this one out, okay man? Most help you can give is being here for the time, I'll tell you everything you need to know as we're going along, you got my word."

"Damn right you will, Hawkes." Flack slumps in the seat opposite, his voice is gruff, and he knows that when the time is right, later, he will apologise to the man who has never been anything less than gentle and considerate even in the face of his helpless aggression. He rubs his hand across his jaw, leaving another streak of dirt, "Do what you have to, don't let him get away from us." An uncontrollable, hopelessly inappropriate sentence jerks out of him, "We got cases to close, he don't get out of them that easily… ah, shit, Hawkes, please, you know I don't mean that."

"It's okay, Don. I know." Hawkes spares him a hand on his shoulder, before turning back to Mac.

He looks down at him, the only time he ever has. It hurts to see a man who is always the movement of justice and ideals, never pausing for others now so cold and still, cut from clay. His face is wiped with a patina of rain, his lips are blue with a bloom of white, no breath from them. And Hawkes swears silently before he starts trying to bring the life back into him. He will not fail.

………………………………...

They are waiting for Sid, two more paramedics traipsing through the escalating mud to meet him, resignation in their faces which he chooses to ignore.

"Bring her up, we'll take her."

"Her name is Stella, Detective Stella Bonasera." He tells them, and they nod.

"Okay, sir, you coming with us?"

"Of course. And, please, it's Dr Hammerback, not sir."

"You got it." They are unfazed as they guide him up the steps and move in on Stella as soon as he has laid her down, laying hands on her.

Sid searches for the strength and vitality inside her that they all love; the movement in her ringing words and always brisk footsteps. But looking at her now he can only grieve for what the elements have taken from her; burnished curls replaced by lustreless, lank waves and glow of colour with damp, china clay skin. No light, no movement. From the gods, he pleads life back to her still form.

**One more chapter to go, as long as I can fit everything in, really must try harder with my editing… At the end, if you're interested, I was thinking of the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea. Hope you liked this chapter. All thoughts welcome! Lily x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. But I wish I did.**

**Notes**** I've had so many brilliant reviews for the previous chapters, thank you very much. Thank you if you've been just reading - I'd love to know what you think. The time taken to review, even if you just say hi, is much appreciated. The final chapter, hope you enjoy**

**NB In the last chapter, maybe I'm being a little paranoid here, but Sid and Stella are just friends. She saved his life, and he cares for her very much, that's all :)**

**Thanks must go to those with whom I've had discussions about the ending and characters: Blue Shadowdancer for sharing poems; sarramaks for advice on endings, and a read of this chapter; Shining Zephyr for thoughts on endings; marialisa, chrysalis escapist and SallyJetson for much discussion and interest. And to everyone who has reviewed.**

Falling Leaves: Chapter 11

Present and Future:

Stella is still watching him, her back to everything else. Mac watches over her shoulder as they are taken away, further away from themselves. Abandoning them with no sensation other than a prowling dread for the unknown quantity of their existence. Lights weaken into the distance. Amongst the confusion of rain closing around them, people meander and maze away like leaves in a stream. Danny, Lindsay and Adam are scarcely visible as misted shapes; Danny supported by the other two, his arms thrown round their shoulders as they all stagger together across the land and slowly vanish. Light fades.

"What now?" He is asked.

"We wait."

"How long?"

"You tell me."

She snaps her eyes at him, "Fine. As long as it takes, Mac."

He watches her and suddenly sees her change in expression.

"Did you say something else?"

"No, why?" He narrows his eyes, "What is it, Stella?"

"I heard something."

………………………………...

Sid keeps a hand on her shoulder, keeping watch as they work to bring her back. Watching a friend who life is fighting to the death for. But she has been cold a long time.

"Just keep fighting, please, Stella."

……………………………

_Please…_

Her eyes widen, her hand rises to her shoulder, "Mac! You hear that? Tell me you hear that."

"No." No sound. He stares at her.

………………………………...

Another breath into her mouth. They pull back, Sid breathes. Nothing. She is still motionless, cold under his hand. He urges again, "Come on, Stella, keep fighting, come on."

………………………………...

_Come on…_

"Mac, please tell me you heard that." She demands, and the wind lifts her hair.

He hears the soughing air and nothing else.

"Stella, I'm sorry, I didn't."

Alarm increases, "Mac, what's going on?"

………………………………...

Hands pushing down on her, more breaths. Sid places his palm on her forehead, and the doctor's hand feels a degree more warmth in her skin.

He tells her again, insists she hears him, "Stella, I know you're listening, just keep listening. Listen to me, please."

…………………………..

_Listen to me…_

Her voice rises, "This isn't funny, Mac, please, tell me I'm not the only one hearing this!" She twists around for the no one that is there, and Mac is helpless, "Please!"

"I'm sorry…"

Looking in fright at him, she takes a step towards him, and then stops, her face twisting, hand to her chest in pain, "Something's wrong…"

………………………………...

Another breath for her, another rhythm to her heart. No movement. Sid squeezes her shoulder again, still determined with all his breath and heart. Calls her again, "Come on, Stella, please, come back to us all, you have to."

……………………………….

_Come back…_

She gasps, and stumbles, Mac reaches for her.

"Please, help me…"

But his hands seem to melt through her. She stares in horror at rain slipping through hands that have become transparent. The evening sky is lucent through her.

"_No! _Oh no…"

"Stella!"

"Don't let me go, Mac, please, don't you leave me, please…"

But, like breath in December, she fades and is vanished away from him.

_Stella…_

………………………………...

"Stella!"

Sid clutches at her, hardly daring to hope that the heat of her skin exists again. The terrible grey-white pallor has the faintest tint of colour returning. One more breath, and suddenly she shudders under their hands.

"That's it, Stella, come on, please!" He grasps her arm and holds it tight, willing her. The others stay close, watching, waiting. Oxygen heaves back into her lungs, blood flows. And she breathes. Dragging gasps of air and life back into herself, she breathes.

………………………………...

Mac, in frozen shock, alone in the wailing winds, sees only darkness ahead of him now. The water that has drowned the earth begins to rise around him. It fills his heart and berefts him.

………………………………...

"Talk to me, Hawkes, how's he doin'?" Flack cranes forward to see over the backs and shoulders between Mac and himself.

Hawkes answers without turning round, "We're keepin' going."

"Make sure you do." He crashes back against the seat and projects his thoughts, _I'm waiting, Mac, all of us are, get yourself back here_

Driving Hawkes on is everything that drove him away from medicine those years ago. Wet, cold, cloth and skin under his hands. He pushes on, and knows he will not fail. He sends his own thoughts,

_Don't let me fail, Mac_

………………………………...

Vacant heart, empty eyes, hollows filling with water. His head sinks and he stares down into the up surging charybdis. He lets himself sink, feels his legs too heavy to hold him and he falls letting the whirlpool drag him under.

………………………………...

"Don't give up." Flack shivers in the metal cold of the ambulance and the bleak odour of too much water.

"Don't intend to." Hawkes feels his arms almost breaking. His lips almost as cold as Mac's. Another breath, another compression.

_Don't give up…_

………………………………...

Whirlpools, thick, viscous constrictors of water. He is floating, water all around and above holding him suspended. No sound except sonar echoes of what might once have been voices. Dark water is around and about him, across his eyes, his lungs sponge sodden. But something is anchoring him, stopping him from floating away while time passes. Pulling him.

The scent of water and scent of light. Pulling him down. He sinks to the bottom, sinking down and down, oil and water, down to the underneath. Strange, the thought passes over him, he expected to rise up through the currents, but instead it is a slow gravity fall.

Mac, the weight of water above him dissipating, looks up through cerulean as he reaches a solid surface and lies there. He feels the dry of something under his hands, warmth, light. Through the pale screen of his eyelids is eggshell blue radiance. Soft beneath his head, dry rustling material, under fingertips a light brush of feather soft. The water drains away, leaves him tide turned and exposed. There seems no more to do other than open his eyes. Blue, white, hot, blinks, closed. Open again, and blinding white sharpens into blurs, into shapes, into faces. Voices, whispers of water and tides begin to pulse into his mind. They begin to make sense. His name washes back to him.

Mac…

…can you..

Mac, can you hear….

…hear me, Mac…

…you hear me, please…

"Mac, can you hear me?"

_I can hear you_

He blinks and the shapes are eyes and a nose and a mouth, a face. A face he knows. There is a hand over his, smoother, softer than the material under it. He hears a voice speak.

"Mac, you there? You hear me? Mac?"

His voice is a sludge and gravel river bed, but the words are there, they make sense.

"I hear you."

The mouth smiles, skin creases, corners line, the grip tightens, breath comes out in a whoosh of words,

"Thank God. Jeez, Mac, what were you doin' to us? Good to hear you, you don't know how good to hear you. You've been out of it since we got you here, it was Hawkes, he got you breathing again, wouldn't give up."

Currents are still wavering, rippling but he is there, alive. Until an icy rivulet curls round him.

Flack watches him anxiously, "Mac? How ya doing? You okay? Talk to me."

Someone missing. Stella. He does not know. He has to know, and he drags his voice into the air again.

"Stella… where?"

The lines on Flack's face change, his eyes and lips press together. He steps to the side to reveal someone sitting at the side of the bed. Someone smiling in a pale face, whose hand is the one that possesses his.

"Right here, Mac. Where else? Told you it wasn't our day, and you know for sure now I was right."

At his side. And he knows for certain now how much that means to him. It glows and glories through his heart.

Flack mutters about people who don't listen when they are told to stay in bed, never mind anything else, before he stretches his jaw and rubs his face, gives him his gaze, "There're a lot of people who've been waiting for you, Mac. We'll give you a few minutes, then expect visitors. Including Angell. Least you can do for us." He glares at the woman beside him, "Stell, you move from there, and I set Danny onto you. And I ain't joking." Shaking his head, exasperation, fatigue and relief in the set of his shoulders, he heads out of the room, "Be back soon."

Stella laughs softly and protects Mac's hand with her own, "There was nowhere else I was going to be, Mac." Her fingers tighten, "Thank you for trusting me."

Peace bathes him in silver and shines in his face, "You trusted in me, Stella, nothing to thank for."

There is no more that needs to be said then and so they sit together and enjoy an untroubled silence.

………………………………...

Future:

Two candles between them, the soft light of a favourite restaurant, which Mac has insisted she choose. And a dinner long promised. He sits back and regards her thoughtful expression as she passes her fingers through the slender flames, her other hand curled under her chin. Her skin takes the light and it livens all of her.

Sensing his eyes on her, she looks up and beams, taking pleasure in the life in his face and the beat of blood in veins visible under his skin. She withdraws her fingers from the flames and places them round his outstretched hand where they stay.

"Well, Mac, we made it, like I said we would. We cheated death together, and here we are together."

He gives her his crooked grin, "We did, as you said. This time around. It stood no chance against you." He twists the stem of the glass through his fingers, then raises it, "To you, Stella. And to life, whatever it may hold for us."

She mirrors him, "To _us_, and _our_ lives." Her eyes gleam wickedly, "And the next time around we end up staring death in the eyeballs, here's to the sorry sonofabitch losing out again."

Glass chimes together, and the flames burn bright.

THE END

**Another story told, I hope you enjoyed it :D I'd love to know what you thought of it, please review, I'm suffering from cold! Another adventure up very soon. Lily x**


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